


Waking Up

by solemnsuns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Explicit Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solemnsuns/pseuds/solemnsuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard after the Reaper blast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up

London, 2187 CE 

* * *

 Shepard was used to pain. It was a daily occurrence in her line of work. She could take a few bullet grazes or a thrown singularity; she’d even been on the bad side of a overload a few too many times for her liking. She could chronicle her injuries to any passing field medic without batting an eye. A bruised ego never hurt nearly as much as a concussive round to the back of the helmet.

She’d had Maw acid corrode far enough through her skin to reach muscle tissue. Back in N, she’d had both legs broken in an interrogation course. Hell, Shepard was taught to take pain.

 _Breathe through it_ , _focus on the mission_.

What happened when there was no mission? When everything had turned into such a clusterfuck she wasn’t even sure which direction the sky was. Her heart pounded and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body.

The blast. Red light screeching across the sky.

It all came back to her. The drone of the Reaper beam, the mad rush to get to the citadel. Fuck.

 _Anderson!_ Where was he? He had been up at the Citadel, but that was wrong. She never made it to Citadel, had she?

There had been choices, she remembered fire. Feeling an explosion rock through her body.

Were the reapers gone?

She could hear her pulse in her ears, head throbbing with each beat of her heart. Shepard knew she should be counting, trying to regulate her heartbeat and not let panic take over. She needed to take stock, where was she hurt, how bad was the pain, which injuries needed priority treatment.  

_Focus, start with the head._

Her head certainly hurt. Probable concussion. It explained why her thoughts kept sliding out and she willed herself to think straight. Now was not the time to go into shellshock. She could see pinpricks of light, which was good. She wasn’t blind, at least not yet.

Her shoulders burned and ached, probably dislocated. Not so good since she couldn’t assess any injuries below the joints, but extremities were less crucial. Hardsuits were designed to protect major arteries in cases of extreme injury and Shepard hoped that the trauma to the suit wasn’t so great that the ceramic plating had split.  

Her chest stung with each breath and she wondered how many ribs she’d broken this time.  She could feel a low gurgle with each inhalation. That wasn’t so good. Neither was the heavy pressure she felt across her body. Was she crushed?

 _Fuck_ , where was the medigel? It should have deployed by now. Unless her suit was more damaged than she thought? Not a good thing to think about.

She could feel her pulse in her right leg, which probably meant she was still bleeding. With no medigel to help coagulate blood quickly, that was going to be a problem. Her left leg hurt like a sonofabitch, probably broken.

Tally taken, she could feel the odds stacking up. Not the best situation she’d been in, but her life had been a series of close calls. She could radio Joker; the _Normandy_ would arrive within minutes, except—fuck. The ship was probably halfway through several relays by now with strict orders to lead chase.

Field medics. They would have to be coming by soon. The fight had moved on, she could be discovered. The rubble above her shifted and she felt it dig more into her chest. Panic swam in the back of her skull and bubbled in her throat.

_Stay calm, Shepard._

She couldn’t panic. One she started there was no way back. She had to think and quickly. Shouting could draw attention, but if enemy forces came to investigate she was dead.  But she was dead if she did nothing.

Shepard could feel the blood loss now, lights swimming across her vision. Her head felt lighter, less attached to her body.

It was now or never. She tried to shout, muscles straining against her throat. The noise that came out was warbled at best. Hot tears streaked against her cheek and her breath came in shallow gasps.

This was it dammit.

She really hated dying.

_Fuck._


End file.
